Eight Years Later
by Larsie
Summary: Viola Winston is the polar opposite of her brother Dallas, but they get along just fine. Eight years ago though, he left with their dad, leaving Viola in New York without her big brother. Now, she’s going to Tulsa to see him. Pre-Book! Vote On Couples!
1. Chapter 1

**A/n: Took this down for some revising. Alright, I'm attempting a sister fic. I'm not too sure if I'm going to continue since I only did it to get an idea out of my mind. If I do continue this story, it will totally be open to more opinions than "The Aftermath" is. I really just had to get this out of my system, so don't take it too seriously. I never had this immense desire to write a sister-fic, but I wanted to try and so far it's not coming out as a great story. Well, anyway, you tell me what you think. Hehe. **

**Oh and this story features Viola from "The Aftermath" as Dally's sister! Whoa! It's from her POV and stuff ...**

**Please don't comment on the title. I chose it in lack of a better one. **

**Enjoy ... **

* * *

**Eight Years Later **

**Chapter One**

**(Viola's POV)  
**

* * *

I was at the station. Everyone had already left. I was relatively alone. 

It was dark and gloomy. Among dark and gloomy, it was quiet— a terrible quiet that signified that something bad would happen. I couldn't stop the feeling of dread and regret from spreading through my being.

"Look what we have here," a sinister voice breathed into my ear as a hand was clasped over my mouth tightly. I was roughly pulled against a hard chest and began to panic.

I flailed my arms and legs around. I was terrified! I heard a grunt of annoyance and pain as my foot met my assaulter's groin and the hand loosened on my mouth.

"Fuck," a more familiar voice grunted in a raspy tone. "Did you have to do that?"

Finally, I was let go and in confusion, I asked: "Dal?" I spun towards him and there he was. Unruly hair, icy eyes, and doubled over in pain— Dallas Winston, my brother.

Dallas wasn't one to be brought down easily, not even in a rumble. Of course, in a rumble cheap shots like giving someone a blow right where it hurts aren't used in fear of being called many vulgar and degrading names.

_'Aw shit! Aw shit! Aw shit!' _my thoughts echoed in my ears.

My eyes got watery, I've always been a bit over emotional I'll admit, and I began to hastily apologize. "Sorry Dal! Really!"

He shot his blue eyes upward, glaring daggers at me; the Winston-family glare. Sadly, I hadn't inherited that trait. My eyes were green and soft, only getting hard when I was extremely angry. Even then, my eyes didn't hold the fierce intensity for the Winston-glare.

Dally would have killed anyone else who did that to him, no one did that to Dallas! Except me that is. I was his baby sister though, or at least, that's how he thought of me. I wasn't much younger. Dallas had recently turned eighteen and come February, I'd be seventeen. Still, Dal **couldn't** hit me, that or he just held himself back really well. If he had hit me for all of the shit I'd done to him, I'd be long gone by now. But I'd lived a good sixteen years so far and it was all because Dal was one tough hood— no one messed with me in the fear of having him to deal with. Dal was a mean old guy with a big soft spot when it came to family (as hard as it is to believe).

He stood, his glare still in place, but I ignored it and launched myself at him in a rib-crushing hug, leaving my luggage forgotten. I was surprised when he tensed and pushed on my shoulders. I guess Mom was right; Dallas sure was different. He didn't even hug back …

"Wow Vi," he began, "you sure look different."

I nodded and responded in a feeble voice, "So do you." I was in complete awe of how tall he'd gotten. When he'd left New York with our dad, he was ten and my height. We were both the shortest kids around. I'd only grown a bit, but Dal was much taller than me now.

"You dyed your hair."

That I had. It used to be blonde, lighter than his. One day, I just decided to dye it though."

"Yeah. Even got the eyebrows." He chuckled as I pulled my side bang to the side so he could see the one hidden as well as the other.

Gosh, this was a little awkward.

"So how'd you know it was me if I look so different?"

"Easy, I just looked for the shortest person still here."

He knew I had height issues! _Jerk!_ "I'm still growing!"

Dallas ignored me, as he usually did when I started screaming at him. It was his way of ending a fight. Dallas always won fights because he knows how to just ignore people, er, most of the time.

He queried, "So you like Tulsa so far?"

I looked around the train station distastefully. "Oh yeah," I began sardonically. "The whole one place I've been to is so _lovely_." Lovely my ass. It smelled of rodents and some unknown odor.

I grabbed my luggage as a message that I wanted to leave that eerie place as soon as possible. He rolled his eyes, put an arm around my shoulder, and started to lead me out.

As we plodded along the cobble street, his took a suitcase from my hands. Leave it to Dal not to have a car with him.

"So where's the place you and dad are staying?" When he didn't answer, I got nervous. "You do have a place to stay, right?" Had my brother and father been homeless bums probably selling off their bodies from a few bucks just to get food? I blanched at the thought.

Finally, I got an answer; "Dad kicked me out a few years ago. He don't give a hoot 'bout me."

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

"You mean we have nowhere to live?" I screamed at him. About an hour together and he'd already gotten me angry twice.

He threw my suitcase at me, which I barely managed to catch, and made his way to one home's porch and made a motion for me to follow. He wasn't breaking and entering was he?

"You mean we have nowhere to live?" I screamed at him. About an hour together and he'd already gotten me angry twice. Sure, I felt bad that Dad kicked him out, but he told Mom he did have a real nice place to stay! With Dad too!

He shrugged and replied, "I got a place that's enough like home."

Home? What kind of home? In _that_ trashy neighborhood? I saw people getting into fights and I saw people pulling out blades on each other. The streets were in desperate need of cleaning since litter was scattered everywhere. What type of a place was this for Dallas to grow up? What type of a place was it for anyone to grow up?

"Is it an alley?" A laugh erupted from him and I'd fakely joined in, a moment later stopping and yelling: "I hate you!" Of course I didn't mean a word of that. I love Dal— he is my brother after all.

He threw my suitcase at me, which I barely managed to catch, and made his way to one home's porch and made a motion for me to follow. He wasn't breaking and entering was he?

Dallas opened the door to the house and entered with me following closely behind. Glory it was one small house, well, smaller than the one I was used to in New York. My old place wasn't much bigger, but it felt kind of strange to be in such a new place.

I still couldn't believe the idiot invited me to come to Oklahoma when he didn't even have a place to stay. We'd kept in touch in letters and the occasional phones calls, though letters were lest costly so we were always writing to each other. Dal didn't have the best grammar, spelling, or penmanship though, so I often found myself having trouble deciphering what he'd written. One day, I'd gotten a letter saying he wanted me to come down from New York; he said something about it just being like old times. He also said Dad really wanted to see me. Liar.

"Darry, Pony, Soda!" He called out, receiving no answer. I don't know who or what he was calling for, but I'd begun to think that my brother was on the verge of insanity. Soda? Pony? "Guess everyone's asleep," He declared before plopping down on the couch. "You gonna come sit down or am I gonna 'ave the whole couch to myself?"

"Fuck you," I replied waspishly. I was angry that he lied about living with dad and I was angry that I'd come down to … nothing. Nothing except Dallas. Wasn't that enough? In that moment, no, it wasn't; but looking back, just being able to see him after eight years was enough. Sure, Dallas is bad-tempered and boorish and tough, but he had a good side. I'm sure if I told anyone that, they'd laugh at me. Dal had quite the reputation, even in New York. Either way, happy with seeing him or not, in that moment I was pissed.

I looked to my brother who was sprawling out on the couch nonchalantly as he flipped through the channels on television. There weren't too many. I scanned the room for a clock and finally, my eyes landed on one. Three o'clock in the morning. How late had Dal been to pick me up?

I sighed heavily.

"So, are we breaking and entering now?" I asked. I wasn't so angry anymore, nor did I let my brother's reputation make me think any less of him. It was a serious question.

"Nah," he responded, waving me off. "Pals of mine live here."

I quirked a brow. "So you're a homeless moocher?" I was glad he at least had a place to stay. I was also happy that I didn't have to sleep on the floor of some alley. I'd really thought it would come down to that when I heard he had no place to stay. I guess that's not Dally's fault though; it was dad's. Plain and simple.

He rolled his eyes, obviously a bit aggravated by my comment, and commanded, "Quiet kid. Get some sleep."

"I'm not a," I began to shout again. Instead of finishing, however, I just sighed. I couldn't help but let the small smile that had been tugging at my lips in that moment completely take over my face. Too much yelling for one day. Too much yelling at Dallas.

'_Same old Dally…'_

I titled my head to the side to show him to make some room. He did. I sat myself next to him and leaned my head on his shoulder. That's how we always fell asleep when we'd lived together up in New York— on the couch, watching television, leaning against each other. Dallas grunted and I nudged him in the gut, making him get my point. He was hesitant, not that I was surprised, but slipping his arm over my shoulders. Mom always used to say that we acted like more of a couple than brother and sister, soon after threatening to skin us if we ever went further than brother's and sister's should. Silly Mom.

Dally's breathing became shallow, low, en even. Moments later I heard small snores erupting from his chest.

"Night Dal," I yawned and fell into a blissful asleep.

* * *

**A/n: There's chapter one ... again. No, there will be no sick DalxVi pairing.**

**I hate it when people require reviews for another update, but I really did not plan on continuing this fic, so I want to get at least two reviews per chapter for an update. That's not a lot at all. They can be from the same people for all I care- I just need some motivation to actually want to continue. If you've read the Aftermath, I don't even ask for reviews half the time unless it's on aspects of the story. I never say "Hey review please." It's not a bad thing if you do ask for reviews, I'm just making a point that _I_ normally don't ask for reviews. I know it was cheesy and stupid and horrible. Hehe, I'll admit it. If someone would beta this, that'd be nice. If anyone wants to help me and make this a collab, I'd love that since I have no clue where to go from here. The book's events will happen eventually, so ... yeah ... **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/n: Well here's chapter two, sort of redone. I'll edit it and spell check it later. I'm too tired right now, but I wanted to post it. Oh, and I was thinking of putting Viola with Soda, but I'm not sure. Of course, she's going to think he's attractive no matter who she ends up with since, hello, he's Soda. Everyone thinks Soda is attractive! Doesn't mean she has to be in love with him. You guys decide.**

* * *

**Eight Years Later **

**Chapter Two  
**

**(Viola's POV)**

* * *

I opened my eyes, letting the bright morning sunlight that was flooding in the windows shine into my eyes. It sure was bright. I sat up and looked to my side, expecting to see Dally, but what I'd been leaning on was only the arm of the couch. I stood and looked around a moment. Where on earth was he? 

This was perfect! I was stuck in a different state in some random person's house. Where the hell did Dal go? How stupid was he to just leave me there? Pals of his or not, _I_ didn't know them! For all I know, he could have been lying again.

"Who are you?"

_Shit …_

I jumped in shock and then spun on my heel only to see a dark haired boy looking back at me with wide green eyes.

"Who are you?" He asked again. "What are you doing in my house?"

I bit my lip and thought for a moment. I contemplated the various things I could do. Run? No. Lie? No. What was I supposed to say? 'Hi, you don't know me, but you know my brother. So, without any permission whatsoever, I spent the night at your house.'

Call me stupid, but that's exactly what I said.

The boy looked pretty young and confused as hell. He probably had no clue what to say and I bet he was thinking about reaching for the phone that was oh-so-very close to him and calling the cops saying a maniac was in his house.

My thoughts were confirmed correct as I saw him turn his gaze to the phone._ Shit. _Great, I've got a kid thinking I'm a maniac in his house. Perfect.

Maybe I was freaking out a little too much though. But try seeing this from my point of view: I'm in some person's house and they walk down the stairs to find me just … there. Then, they're staring at the phone ready to call the cops. I'm not like Dallas— I have a problem with going to jail!

Why did Dal have to go and disappear on me?

"Calm down Curtis. She's my sister." I was relieved to hear Dally's voice and turned my head to see him walking out of the bathroom, zippering his jeans.

The boy looked at me, as if sizing me up or sizing me down. I really couldn't tell with this kid. I always had this theory that you can tell a lot about what's on a person's mind from their eyes and his eyes were bright and held this depth that made him look sort of dignified and intelligent; set aside from other people. Yet, they also held a bored, tired look. I had no clue what he was thinking.

"So you weren't lying when you said you were one of my friend's sisters," he stated, cracking a small smile. My mouth hung slightly ajar. This was a classic awkward moment. Oh, but the next thing that happened was simply the best.

"Hey Ponyboy, where's my—" I thought things were awkward before, but now some hot blonde comes walking down the stairs in a towel. "Who's that?" He asked with a bright smile in place. He seemed to not care that he was practically naked in front of a girl he didn't know because the next moment, he was in my face, shaking my hands crazily.

"I'm Sodapop Curtis," so Dallas wasn't going crazy calling for Soda. "You are?"

My mouth moved, but no words came out. My ears sure got hot! Finally, I was able to produce a few stuttered and conjoined words before I blurted out the first real words that came to mind, "Shy; painfully shy."

He chuckled, keeping his bright smile in place. Yeah, laugh it up kid. I'm mortified! I was probably as red as a tomato— maybe that's giving the tomato too much credit.

"Get away from my sister, Curtis," Dally growled out angrily from the couch where he'd decided to lay on again. Sodapop— what an odd name that was— looked down at my hands and back up at my face over and over again before jumping back. He ran a hand through his wet hair and uneasily looked to the side.

Another right assumption from Mom: people feared Dallas and did just about anything he said.

"Hey wait, you got a sister Dal?" Soda queried with a quirked brow.

All I could think was: _'Hello, you're standing there in a towel. Please put clothes on! Ask questions later!'_

Dally rubbed his temples. I'd guessed he'd been drinking. When he'd picked me up at the station yesterday he'd smelled like smoke and the stale smell of alcohol. He must have had a teeny little hangover that morning. A moment later, he replied, "Yeah. Just came down from New York."

Finally finding my voice, I squeaked out a: "Hi!" My knees bucked together and I gave a small wave. When I get nervous, embarrassed or put in a situation like I was in that moment, I scream. That was the case now: "I'm Viola! It's nice to meet you!" I laughed awkwardly and began to back up; making odd hand movements, hoping that the blondie would get the point to put on some damn clothes!

Yeah … a couple of hours in Oklahoma and things were already going smashingly.

* * *

**A/n: Well, this is a crappy update. I know, it sucks pretty badly. As I said, I never had an immense desire to write a sister-fic, but I wanted to give it a try. I'll update if I get three reviews. That's not a lot at all everyone and usually, I don't beg, but because I have no immense desire and didn't intend on continuing this, I kind of need the motivation. I will tell you, I have someone set aside for a couple of characters in the story. Vote who you want to be with Viola in the end. No PonyxViola. I love Pony, but they don't click. In _The Aftermath,_ they don't click either. Oh and Kit, I took your little request and made Dally seem somewhat sweet; or at least, I tried to. It's hard to make rough-tough Dallas seem somewhat caring while trying to keep him in character. Sorry he seems so OOC everyone!! Anyway, don't eat me for the crappiness. Oh and if you have any ideas for this fic, I'd be really happy to hear them since I have no storyline worked out really. Sometimes it's fun to start a story with no idea what direction it will go in :p If someone wants to help make this into a collab with me, I'd be really glad to do it since I have no idea what to do!!!!!!! **

**Love you all! **

**Oh and please check out "The Aftermath" :) I'd really appreciate it!  
**


End file.
